


till break of day

by dorenamryn



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23057176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorenamryn/pseuds/dorenamryn
Summary: It should not have come as a surprise. After all, no one has ever seen him as anything more than a monster.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	till break of day

**Author's Note:**

> _when all is done, he does not sleep  
>  till break of day, and long thereafter  
> it is atonement at its best_

The wooden floor is cold beneath him.

Threadbare and torn, marred by ash, the rug he lies on does little to stave off the bitter chill. It seeps through the bloodied sheet, the frigid bite of it finding a home in his bones, clenching around his pounding heart. 

Alucard shivers, chest tight. Blistering lines crisscross his pale skin, leaving angry red in place of pale ivory. There is metal on his tongue, in the air, coating his freezing hands.

His father’s ring gleams in the dark, faint strokes of moonlight painting the surface a glistening silver. And yet, he cannot bear more than a glimpse before burying his face in his hands as grief and sorrow tear him apart. It is a slow but sure process, beginning with the pit that cracks open in the cavern between his ribs, a growing void he cannot stamp out. Shoulders shaking, breath coming in short gasps, Alucard curls tighter around himself, the angry welts from the binds flaring in protest. For a moment, the pain is enough to drown out the beat of his heart.

There is nothing in this world left for him. It is a dark, bitter thought, but it is the truth. His father is gone, and his mother’s teachings have failed him—those he wished to help did not see him as more than a mere pawn in their own schemes, to be put down when he didn’t provide the information they wanted. 

Somewhere from the recesses of memory he’s locked away, his mother smiles at him. She is ethereal in the glow of recollection, warm and untouchable, and tears fill his eyes anew. He has failed her, and her people. He has failed everyone he has ever touched. It is far better here, when there is no one else he can ruin. Easier, when it is just him who holds his heart. 

It has only been a month. Curious it is, then, that his defences have fallen so far, victim to desperation and a crushing sense of lonely dread. He had wanted to be kind. Wanted to be different, better than what he was perceived. But, ultimately his intent didn’t matter, not to those who had made up their mind long before. To them, he was nothing more than a tool. Nothing more than a source of knowledge, _the_ Alucard, not Adrian, his humanity disregarded and tossed aside. 

They were right. They were right, they were _right_ —He is already dead.

The floorboards creak under his weight as the wind howls through the shattered window. There are no stars in the sky tonight. It is only himself, the cold, and the moon, just as the dark shadow of destiny told him, in his sleep at Gresit and through every step since. Glass still litters the floor under the jutting edge of the narrow sill, the shards twinkling like stars against the dark of the charred ground. Left untouched since that fateful day, the room is coated in a fine layer of dust. It is not enough to shield him from reality, not enough to erase the memory of his sword slicing through two throats at once, the feeling of blood splattering across his prone, bound form. He had only ever wanted to be honest, to make his mother proud. He was not allowed even that.

Repulsion courses through him, disgust at his own incompetence. Was there ever possibility of a better outcome? Humanity had always carried a cruel streak, he knows this. They executed his mother for nothing more than her desire to do good in the world. Would have killed him, for the same reason. It should not have come as a surprise. After all, no one has ever seen him as anything more than a monster. 

Nothing good comes of his desires to be better. It is, perhaps, what he deserves. Where Adrian was an idealistic fool, Alucard will be paying for his sins forever. The silver of his sword is bright in his mind’s eye. He can’t help but liken it to a cross as it was, floating above him as he lay bound. The similarity is oddly just, though God has never looked upon him.

On the floor of his old bedroom, sheet drawn about him as his father’s cloak was in childhood, Alucard cannot breathe. Bitterly, tortuously, he thinks he knows now what it is like to burn.

* * *

Hope was always the most absinthian of virtues. Unparalleled in its ability to warp the mind, to render the heart defenceless. Alucard is intimately familiar with hope and the devastation it wreaks unto men. He should have known better. Alas, he will not make the same mistake again. 

No longer will he remain the passive guardian of science, content to let others play with his heart. No, that is quite enough.

The next person to come to his castle will be staked like the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> castlevania season 3 broke my heart :(


End file.
